She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways
by The Doctor's Bad Wolf
Summary: The Doctor and Martha go a slave Planet to keep it from exploding and destroying the worlds around it. The Doctor plans to bring the salve trade down. But what happens when they discover a child living there who shouldn’t even exist?
1. Chapter 1

Discalmer: If I own Doctor Who---let's just leave it there shall we?

**Chapter One**

**Perton**

At this point in time (that's such a funny expression) I feel I would do well to record the single most important encounter of my life; the day I met the doctor.

* * *

"Well—look at that landscape, Martha! All sand and ionized pertonite for miles and miles, this planet is covered in fields of it. Could kill hundreds of planets but makes capital building materiel," the doctor spun his long arms, sweeping up the dunes and aired yellow sky in one gesture, "What'd ya think?"

"I think it's hot and d-d-" She broke into a coughing fit. The doctor smiled and patted her back, handing her a handkerchief. Gulping several times, Martha pressed the handkerchief to her nose and choked out, "Dusty."

"Dusty? Right, well, I forgot you don't have the biological equipment to handle Pertonian air," he bounced back into the TARDIS and returned a moment later with a common filter mask.

"What good's that gonna do?" Martha asked through the handkerchief, "This isn't exactly working well," she coughed hard again, "This sand is miniscule. It'll go right to my lungs and kill me."

"Not," he said as he shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "If I do this and this." The sonic screwdriver hummed and cast its blue light over the filter.

Satisfied he handed it to Martha who gave him a skeptical look, "Go on, it'll work I promise," he shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels as Martha slipped the filter into place over her mouth and nose.

She took a few tentative breaths and her eyes began to sparkle as the fresh, clean air filled her lungs, "How'd you—?"

"Anyway—" he shot off across the dunes, his long coat snapping behind him, "We have an appointment with Corbin Phlu, an old—uh, well, let's say acquaintance because I would never consider the man a friend—yes, acquaintance would be best. But he is the manager of the mines and fields of this planet and he sent for me because their pertonite converter isn't working properly."

Martha ran to keep up, "So what's 'at mean?"

"It means, " he bent his head and stamped his foot on the ground a few times, "It means—uhm—right here," he aimed the screwdriver and the earth shook, "Well, it means the planet could explode."

Suddenly the ground dropped out from under the. Martha screamed and fell against the doctor clinging on for dear life. The sand fell with them until massive bay doors closed over their heads. It took a moment for Martha to realize they were standing on a moving platform that was lpunging downward at an alarming rate.

"What's happening?" she screamed at the doctor.

"Don't worry," he yelled back, "It's only a hyper lift! We're not free falling, it's very controlled."

"Easy for you to say," she shrieked back.

As they rushed underground through darkness, Martha pressed her face into the Doctor's chest. He stood as calmly and coolly as if they were off to the canteen for tea and sandwiches. With her ear to his shirt, Martha could hear the calm dual pumping of his hearts. They, like him, didn't seem to feel afraid at all, beating out a controlled and regular tattoo. She shivered and his placed an arm around her, his hand resting on the small of her back. She peeked up at him and he grinned.

"Fun isn't it?" he bellowed.

She didn't answer but realized that if she had to be in this situation with anyone she couldn't think of another person she'd rather be with. Lights began to flash by in little bursts of yellow and the Doctor explained, "They're platforms to the different levels of the mine, we're almost to our's."

As he spoke the lift slowed and Martha felt her stomach flip from the sudden drop in speed. The Doctor braced her and as they swung to the side he gestured to the approaching platform, "Welcome to Platform 9 and three quarters, Martha Jones."

"You're kiddin' right?" she asked as they stepped off. The sudden feeling of solid ground beneath her feet sent Martha to the ground but the Doctor pulled her back up as a computerized voice announced.

"Welcome to Platform 9 and three quarters. Please remove all weapons and socks and place them in the collection bins to the right. All personal belongings with be returned upon leaving the facility. Thank you for your attention, have a nice day and watch out for nargles."

Martha's mouth dropped open.

"See?" the doctor had moved away from her and was busy pulling his socks off and rolling them into a neat ball, "I told you."

"Nargles? Platform nine and three quarters? What is this? Harry Potter meets the sands devils?" Martha perched on a low seat and began unlacing her shoes.

"No, but the planet works like a giant reception unit for earth radio and television signals," the doctor wiggled his bony toes before pulling his trainers back on, "You think Harry Potter is big on earth wait until I take you to planet Hogwarts; socks off!"

Martha frowned and pulled the slim brown socks off her feet, "Why can't we wear socks anyway? I mean, are they gonna explode too?"

"No, the Pertontians are rather fond of ankles. They consider they to be the most attractive part of the anatomy," he smiled and hitched his own pant legs up to bare his bony shins, "What you'd think? Pretty foxy eh?"

"Oh, totally," Martha deadpanned, "I donno how I kept myself off you for all these months."

He grinned and offered her the bin into which she dropped her socks. She looked up, "Aren't we supposed to leave any weapons in here?"

"Who has weapons? Do you have weapons?" he questioned as he headed down a brightly lit corridor, "Because I don't remember bringing any weapons with me."

"What about your sonic screwdriver. You use it like a weapon," Martha said in a hushed voice as she followed.

"It's nothing more than a simple tool," he lied, "And that's all they need to know about it. Besides, I don't think you'd want to be done here without something like it."

"Why?" Martha asked.

"Because--," they rounded a corner and the floor dropped away. Martha gasped as they looked down on a vast chamber that yawned open in the earth. Below them, rows and rows of people were laboring under heavy loads in endless lines. They dropped off they loads and went back for more. Any debris that fell was picked up by hoards of little dirty children that ran between and around legs. All of them were coughing and groaning, their eyes dim and hopeless, expressions slack and dead.

"Because I don't think you want to be trapped on a slave planet for the rest of your life." He finished.

TBC


	2. I Should Be So Lucky

**Disclaimer: Don't own it.**

**AN: Sorry about the weird lines in the text but I couldn't figure out how to remove them. So much for upgrades.**

**Chapter Two**

**I should Be So Lucky**

"Are you sayin' all of these people are salves?" Martha asked in shock.

"Unfortunately," the smile has vanished from the Doctor's face, "Most of them were sentenced for crimes on their homes worlds. Pertonite, other then being one of the richest buildings materials is also one of the most dangerous to mine. So the worlds who use it kill two birds with one stone; make the criminals mine it, get the pertonite and kill off the bad guys."

"That's barbaric!"

"That's business. At least in their minds," the Doctor answered grimly, "But not every justice system is fair and some of these people don't deserve to die like this."

"What about all those little children," Martha pointed to the young ones who were running, coughing and choking to pick up the bits of fallen ore, "They can't be criminals."

"They're the greatest sufferers in this place," the Doctor's face grew graver and a deep line furrowed his brow, "Most of them were born here and this is where they'll die. One month in the pertonite mines ensures that you're going to have bad health, more than that and you're going to die early. Being raised here with kill you in a few years. If you notice none of these children are older than four or five."

"My God," Martha breathed touching her oxygen mask, "I feel so selfish having this while they're sucking poison into their lungs."

The Doctor's eyes softened as they rested on Martha's face, "It wouldn't do them any good, Martha; it's too late for most of them."

"So what're we gonna do about it?" she asked crossing her arms and standing ready, "What's your plan?"

He blinked at her, "My plan? What do you mean?"

"To set 'em free. To help them escape," Martha clarified.

"Martha, I can't do that," the Doctor said ignoring her dumbfounded look, "Some of these people are innocent and I know that's terrible but—I'm not here for that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Martha said glaring over her mask, "Do you mean to say that we came all this way to help keep these people in slavery?"

"I came to fix the pertonite converter," he corrected, "There is nothing I can do to help these people."

"Now that is a surprise, even for you," Martha said quietly, "I never would have thought it."

He didn't answer merely looking away. Somewhere below them a child coughed violently and his friends crowded around to comfort as he cried and struggled to bring air into his lungs. They instinctively leaned over the parapet and saw a small girl or no more than ten or eleven holding the child. She seemed to be soothing the child somehow. Beside her the Doctor sucked in a sharp breath as if in pain. Martha glanced at him and saw his eyes were closed and he grimaced as if someone had stabbed him. His hands clutched the railing until the tips of his fingers were white.

"Doctor?"

"Shhh!" his eyes snapped open as the overseer went after the girl and whipped her several times. Martha called out as ribbons of bright orange blood appeared where the whip fell.

"Do something!" Martha yelled, "Ya can't let him beat her!"

"Be quiet!" he hissed.

As she hobbled back to her post, the girl chanced to look up to where they stood. Martha watched as the girl's eyes fell on her and the Doctor, her eyes widen and Martha saw a flicker of something in them but it passed by so swiftly she couldn't be sure.

The Doctor released a shuddering sigh as she disappeared from view and sank back from the railing. Martha caught him as he stumbled a bit.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?" she asked quickly.

He opened his eyes and stared blankly ahead, "Nothing. Nothing I was mistaken I—though—never mind." He looked into her eyes and whispered, "This is a terrible place Martha."

"Then we should try to do something about it," she said she helped him to his feet.

"Martha—" he began and then turned and got off down the corridor they had just come from.

"Where are we going?" she yelled after him.

"To do what I came here to do," he answered and paused so abruptly Martha slammed into him a second later, "Corbin should have met us at the platform but he didn't. That either means he is dead and no one knew we were coming or that he wants us to come to him which is not a good thing either.

"Why don't we just leave?" Martha suggested sarcastically, "I mean, if we're only facilitatin' in the slave trade."

The Doctor gave her a look but was again silent. He pulled his sonic screwdriver from his pocket and aimed it at the door panel on the wall before them. The blue light beamed briefly on the panel and a moment later it slid aside.

"I love my sonic screwdriver," he said happily, "Coming?"

"Not willingly," she muttered under her breath.

"Lucky, who's 'at?" one grubby child whispered to another pointed a filthy finger toward the balcony where the Doctor and Martha stood.

"Dunno," his companion answered and cried as she dropped her load tearing a ragged nail to the quick.

"E're let me help you," he offered.

"No Paul! You can't," the girl pulled a torn piece of material from her sole pocket and wrapped the bleeding finger tightly; "You'd get sick'n we can't do 'at. Remember we gotta get in five loads today or no lunch tomorrow."

"Yeah," he hefted both their loads onto his back, "Go get another and I'll meet up wiff ya."

"Right then," Lucky replied. But she stayed rooted to the spot holding her finger in her other hand.

Her eyes, huge and round in her too thin face, stared up at the strangers. They were arguing from the looks of it, probably disagreeing about how much pertonite to buy. People always argued over pertonite and the prices and how soon they could get it. They never seemed to see behind the bluish ore to the people dying under loads of it. Lucky's attention shifted as another child near her coughed violently. She ducked under a passing ore transporter and wrapped her scrawny arms around them.

"E're now don't cry," she cooed.

Tears poured down the child's face as they struggled to drag air into their lungs; flecks of blood spattered his chin as he gagged. Lucky brushed the ragged hair out of the child's eyes. As she did so she closed her own and thought of all the good things she could remember happening. The day they had off because the machines broke down, the day they got three full meals because they had had a big strike of ore. And the day they got new tools that made mining so much easier.

The child's breathing eased as the pathetic images filled his mind; to him they were like Christmas. His muscles relaxed and air rushed in.

Lucky opened her eyes and smiled brightly, "Now get back ta work or you'll have us all in a bad spot."

He nodded and grabbed his tiny load before trudging off. Lucky looked after him a moment before moving on herself, but not quickly enough. A whip lashed across her shoulder biting painful into her skin. She screamed at the pain and cowered to the ground as the lash fell a second and third time.

"Get off ya arse!" the overseer bellowed, "We don't have time for ya to be sittin' around and cuddlin' brats! Get off!"

"Right sir," Lucky sobbed. She scrambled to her feet clutching her bleeding shoulder where her blood was soaking into the thin sleeve of her top. As she ran back to her post, Lucky glanced up at the balcony.

Time slowed for a moment as her eyes locked with the deep brown eyes of the man above her. Disbelief, shock and confusion poured off him like waves and settled on her as she ran by. But she didn't dare stop or pause although everything in his look commanded her to do so. In her mind she heard a dual beating, an echo of two hearts pumping together—like her own.

**TBC**


End file.
